Coincidence?
by Ryuuko Megami
Summary: After shocking you all with my Yakeru, here I am with a Takari, a happy 'lil cliche deal. Just a little ficcie 'cuz I was kinda bored


Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon. I don't own anything. Except the voices in my head. And they don't even like me! Nobody loves me! WAAAAAH!

  
  


Author's note: I have nothing to say but Author notes are cool. 

Coincidence?

By Ryuuko Megami

  
  


The clearest memory I have from when I was seven is the day my mother

took me to a park. It was a beautiful park, and in the fall the leaves turned red

and gold, until finally they crinkled at the edges and fell off of the trees to

scatter, sprinkling the grass. I collected armfuls of the crisp leaves, giggling as

the wind blew my hair into a tangled bundle of strands. I piled the leaves in an

open space of grass and dived in, just as I had always wanted to. When the leaves

dissipated, I piled them up and jumped again. When I finally tired, I lay back in

the leaves and stared up into the bright blue sky.

Suddenly a golden head clouded my vision. A boy with bright blue eyes the

same approximate age as I was leaning over me. The funny thing is, I wasn't in the

least interested in boys at that age, but this one was beautiful. My jaw dropped

and I stared, at a complete loss.

"Did you hear me?" the boy asked. "Can I jump with you?"

Pulling myself together, I nodded. "Sure." 

And with that simple exchange, we jumped over and over into the pile, leaves

tangling in our hair and sticking to our clothes. At last, we were both lying back

and staring at the sky. 

"That was awesome," the boy exclaimed. 

"Yeah," I replied. "Want to come to the park tomorrow to play?"

Silence.

"Want to play with me tomorrow?" I repeated.

"I heard you," he began in a soft voice. "I have to move away from here, into

a new house. I'll probably never come back here. Today's our last day in this town.

I wanted to come to this park for my last day. I think I have to go home now. Bye."

He got up, brushed the leaves off of his sweater, and left. 

"Bye," I called after him.

I never learned his name.

  
  


Of course, there's no way that I could ever see him again, especially now, six

years later. I moved too, when I was ten or eleven. And here I am now, beginning

middle school and much more interested in guys then I was at seven. I have also

learned that gorgeous guys usually do not pop out of nowhere and ask to play in the

leaves with you. 

  
  


The first month or two of middle school passed quickly. I was attending a

large public school, and I soon met a group of friends that I got along well with. W

had most of our classes together, but one particular friend had classes with a

whole lot of people I didn't know. One day, she came up to me with a story she had

that she said was "hilarious".

"Oh, Hikari," she squealed, "Guess what happened in math."

Being used to squealing and these "hilarious" stories often, I went along with

it. "What happened in math?"

"Well, I was sitting there doodling on my math book and suddenly saw on the

page a whole paragraph of complete nonsense that Takeru had written. I knew it

was Takeru because he borrowed my book and-"

"Wait," I interrupted. "Who's Takeru?" 

"You don't know Takeru?" she gasped. "I'm sure I told you about him."

"Nope."

"You have to meet him. Come on," and she pulled me down the hall.

A pair of crystalline blue eyes, a lot of beautiful blond hair, and a sweet

smile met me in Miyako's math classroom. I definitely had never met Takeru.

We became close friends. He was so sweet, and he made me laugh. I began

to see what Miyako had meant by Takeru's complete nonsense - he had funky ideas. 

But Miyako was, although a great friend, kind of unoriginal. I, on the other hand,

love weird. 

For my birthday, Takeru gave me a plastic McDonald's happy meal toy, but

left a beautiful necklace in my locker. It was a green stone carved into a leaf

shape, suspended on a delicate silver filigree chain. I wore it every day from then

on. 

As we neared the end of school, the end-of-the-year-dance loomed over our

heads. This dance was planned for meticulously through the whole year and

promised to be the best dance yet. I began to spend hours planning and discarding

outfits, makeup, and hair schemes. Finally, the week right before the dance, I

decided on a green spaghetti strap and some black leather flares û I simply cannot

stand skirts. My hair was left down, and it came just to my shoulders in a thick

brown sheet. Takeru's necklace finished the outfit. I wanted to impress Takeru,

because, though I hated to admit it to myself û I loved him.

The dance looked wonderful. The decorations were gorgeous. Man, Takeru

was hot. 

Those were my first three thoughts as I entered the school gym, in a

transformed state. Was this the same place where we had PE every day and

struggled to comprehend how knowing the rules of pickle-ball would help us in our

future lives? Impossible. 

A lot of group dancing went on, as we all stood in a circle and moved to a

rhythm. On the slow dance, however, people began to pair off. I stood, staring at

my shoes, without the nerve to ask a guy to dance until someone tapped me on the

shoulder. I turned around to see Takeru.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked. 

Wow. Of course I would dance with him. Jeez, I was practically in love with

the guy, though of course he couldn't be in love with me so it was pointless to even

try for him.

"S-sure," I stammered, and the rest of the song passed in a daze. This was

heaven. I swayed back and forth in the arms of the guy I loved. As the song

ended, my eyes filled with tears when my brain kicked in. This angel couldn't love

me, and that dance was probably all I would ever get from him. I couldn't stand it. 

As I thanked Takeru, I began to head outside. I barely made it before the tears

began to fall, streaking my cheeks and dropping on my shirt. 

I sat on a bench, sobbing my eyes out, when I heard footsteps. I turned to

the wall. Nobody could see me like this. 

"Kari?" The voice was filled with concern, and I recognized it as... oh, no...

Takeru. "Are you ok?"

"Yes." The word was broken up by a sort of hiccup as I attempted to stop

crying.

"No you aren't." Pause. "Look, it's ok. You can tell me anything."

"No I can't." I began to cry again. "I know..." I couldn't go on.

"You don't like me." Takeru's voice became filled with emotion. "That's ok

though. I don't deserve you. But you can tell me anything... and I'll still love you."

His voice broke.

Oh, no. This wasn't right! How could I hurt his feelings? I just wanted to

make him happy! I turned around. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with sorrow. 

"TK, I... I love you!" I said. 

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really! I love you and I need you but I thought-" 

"Shh, that's all I needed to hear," he said, eyes already free of sorrow as he

leaned in closer. And that's when I experienced my first kiss. 

As I stared at him wordlessly, I experienced a flashback. I was at the park

again, seven years old, and a golden head with blue eyes was leaning over me. 

Suddenly I knew that the eyes staring into mine as he kissed me were the same

eyes as the boy's at the park. 

"TK!" I breathed. "You... what? How?" I seemed unable to speak.

"Hush," he said. "I want to tell you a story."

"When I was seven, I moved away from my house. On the last day in town, I

went to the park. A girl was there, with gorgeous hair and a beautiful smile, and

we played together. I loved her at first sight..."

  
  


Fini

  
  


Wow! That's a total cliche! And totally predictable! Wow! How... Pathetic! Well, it did come from my own self at least. I wish this could happen to me, but all I did was meet a REALLY HOT guy at a theme park once and never saw him again but that is where this story was born! I hope you like it even if it was cliche. Read and Review or I will make you suffer by feeding you... OVEN BAKED CHICKEN!!!!! Bwahahaha.

  
  


Note: Pata is the only one who will understand about the chicken, but it is a horrible fate. Trust me. 


End file.
